Prologue - Girl from Memory Planet
"They came and they killed,
and she left by their side.
They made her into them,
and she stayed alive...
This is a story about a little girl,
she never wanted to die..."
- Hania (Girl from Memory Planet)
"Miss Granger." A hand reached out in front of her. Old and wrinkled, but powerful with a long forgotten elegance.
Hermione looked down at her own hands, the time turner Professor McGonagal had given her at the start of the year gripped tightly between her fingers turning her knuckles white.
"I know this must seem like a punishment Miss Granger, but it is simply for the best." The headmaster's voice rolled over her like honey, she had a suspicion there was magic laced within his words. He smiled indulgently at her as she slowly let the golden chain slip through her fingers to rest in his outstretched hand. The headmaster laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder giving it a small squeeze, before turning to place the gold orb in a black ornate box. He waved his wand in an unfamiliar pattern above the box, Hermione watched as a design started to crave itself into its surface. Wards, her mind supplied.
"Have you given any thought into which subjects you wish to continue on with next year," the headmaster said over his shoulder as he placed the box on one of the numerous shelves decorating his office walls. "With your condensed timetable I know the Professor's are anxious to see which of them made the most lasting impression on the brightest witch of her age," he continued turning around to face her, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Hermione inwardly cringed at the title pushed on her and the pressure that came with living up to it. The headmaster must have noticed how Hermione was unsure of her choices, as he chuckled to himself returning to sit behind his desk looking at her over his steeped fingers.
"It is not something to cringe at Miss Granger, there are many here that wish for your natural talent. You have earned the title, do not dim your light for fear of others seeing you shine too bright. You are the beacon in the dark for those around you, you guide them along their journey." His gaze suddenly turned serious as they seemed to try to pierce through something she couldn't see. It scared her that it was her he was looking at so intently, as though there was something within herself only he could see. "Always remember that Miss Granger, not matter what happens."
She frowned at his words. "What do you mean sir?"
The headmaster gave her a small smile, and she thought she saw a flash of sadness pass through his eyes. "We are not the master of our fates Miss Granger, not matter how hard we try to believe that, all we control is our actions and how we use them in regards to those around us. Remember my words Miss Granger, you will understand them one day. Now," in the blink of an eye the man before her was back to the quirky headmaster she had known for years, "I think it is time for dinner I am positively famished."
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, "Yes, sir-"
A dense fog started to appear covering the floor, crawling up the walls and furniture. Slowly wrapping itself around the two figures in the office oblivious to the smoke. Eventually nothing could be seen of the room but the grey tinted fog that churned and twisted as though a living creature. Then just as suddenly the fog started to thin out, the outline of the room could be seen again though it had changed from what it once was. There were stairs off to the right, it wasn't a room, a hallway.
The floor was the first thing that came into complete focus as the fog floated up into the ceiling out of view. There were wooden floorboards, chestnut in colour, buffed and polished to the point where you could almost see your reflection. As the fog swept further away, images of clashing colours started to appear along the floorboards. And with a snap of an unknown sound the fog was gone and thoughts returned as though nothing has happened.
It almost looked like a bird smeared across the floor from people walking aimlessly through. It wasn't as thin as water so it didn't run as much, but in her mind kept its shape as another boot was placed over where the heart should have been.
Blood.
It was everywhere, but she felt at the same time there wasn't enough. Surely the body needed more, than could be splattered across the walls and make funny bird patterns on floors, to keep somebody alive. Every single surface should be gleaming red with the amount to fill the vessel of a person's soul.
Maybe it was a phoenix. It did look familiar, with its long tail swooping down behind it. If you squinted hard, it could be a phoenix.
The defining feature had been added when a man - she recognised him, but his name wouldn't come - pivetted hard on his foot, spinning around to face the door as more nameless faces stormed through the front door of the house.
Her house? Her mind made a noise at the question, like a game show. Errggh. Wrong.
Her parents house? Again the noise. Errggh. Wrong.
A ghost house?
Ding! Ding! Ding!
A blink of the eye and the fog was back, the sound of the last ding echoing in its hollowness around the room until finally fading away. A dead silence filled the space, the fog dancing within the folds of itself.
Then a noise, small like rain, the pattering of feet, then stomping, people running.
From the center of the fog a light could just be seen, like the first morning glow of the sun just before it crests the horizon, and then bursts forth blinding its way through the fog. A train rushing along its tracks before jerking to a stop.
"Harry! Ron! Slow down, not so fast." A voice yelled and then the fog was gone.
Hermione held her side as she caught her breath, all the while glaring at the boys. "How many...times...do I...have to tell...you...my legs aren't..."
"As long as ours," Ron finished in a huff. "We know, but if we don't hurry we'll be stuck in a compartment with the twins, and I over heard them talking about the pranks they are going to test on the train."
Hermione continued to glare at Ron's worried face, as she shoved her book bag at him."At least carry this then."
"Eh! 'Mione, why do you have so many-," Ron swallowed the end of his sentence as Harry elbowed him in the stomach.
"Ginny is saving us some seats, but she said she couldn't make any promise," Harry explained, as they started walking the length of the train looking in the windows for the red headed girl.
They finally found her at the back of the train with Neville. Harry sat down grinning as though having won some small victory, as Ron stumbled in behind Hermione muttering about books, bags, heaviness and why he had to carry Hermione's stuff and not Harry.
"It's because..."
"Little brother that you..."
"Give our lioness..."
"More entertainment..."
"With your grumbling." The twins finished together from behind Ron, making him spin around to face them then quickly back to Hermione with wide eyes.
"Is that true?" Ron squeaked.
Hermione shrugged. "Harry would do it, no words said. So yeah, I s'pose the twins are right."
"What!" Ron yelled, his ears turning red. As the twins laughed together, as though they had been in on the joke all along.
Harry and Ginny where smiling trying to contain their own laughter in the face of Ron spluttering in anger. Ron turned on them, noticing them hiding behind their hands. "You knew, didn't you? Three years of troll filled book bags flung at me and YOU knew why!"
"Self preservation." Harry was grinning while choking on laughter. "Better you than me, mate." He managed to get out between the laughter.
Ron's face turned as red as his ears as he sat down in between Hermione and Ginny.
"Hey George looks like there is enough room in here for us," Fred commented as he fully entered the compartment.
"If Neville doesn't mind squishing down," George added, around the groans trying to be stifled by the other occupants.
Harry stopped laughing as the twins sat down on either side of him. He sent a pleading look at Ron, who gave him an evil look.
"Better you than me mate, remember," He said through his grin.
Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Ron couldn't contain their laughter as the colour drained from Harry's face as the train jerked into motion.
The fog didn't linger this time, it appeared quickly and hung in the air for a few seconds and then just as abruptly started to thin out making it look as though rain was washing it away. It lasted long enough for the first thought to overlap with the fading sound of laughter.
Acidic metal. She didn't understand how that could be a smell, she had thought long and hard on it but that was all she could come up with.
Acidic metal.
It swarmed her senses like an ocean crashing down on her, wave after waver. No matter how hard she tried the smell never faded.
Too much, too everywhere, too red, too blood.
Eyes. Red eyes, that's what she thought next. She knew her mind had missed a step. It felt like she had read two chapters of a novel and then skipped to the middle. She didn't know what was going on, but she must have read the book before and forgotten, as it still made sense though the details were fuzzy.
'Too much, too everywhere, too red, too blood. Eyes. Red Eyes.' Her mind repeated.
The fog was not gentle this time round. It pushed its way in, leaving no space empty until all there was was the grey tinted smoke pressing against everything. A voice started yelling over and over again banging against the confinements of the fog as though they were walls and finally it broke through.
"Darls! Darls!"
Hermione's feet thumped down the stairs, loudly one at a time letting her Dad know she was coming to his call. She swung round the door frame and was rewarded by the sight of a beautifully decorated cake in cream, with strawberries and peppermint scattered on top. Her mum started slicing into the cake the moment Hermione entered the room.
"Happy belated birthday darls," her dad said, smiling at her as he pulled her into a tight hug. The smell and feeling of home enveloping her.
"I just can't believe you're fourteen already," her mum gushed while she plated up three servings of the cake.
Hermione looked at her mum over her father's shoulder. "Mum, in a couple of months I'm going to be fifteen," she chastised.
Mrs Granger put the knife down on the table with a bang, from Hermione's view she could see that her hands where on her hips reminding her of Mrs Weasley.
"I know that young lady, I'm just annoyed that I miss so much of you growing up now."
Her dad chuckled against Hermione's hair before releasing her as she sighed at her mother. "Miss what? I'm still the same as I was last year," Hermione tried to reason.
"You may think that, but you're not. Besides it does something to a mother to not even be able to see her daughter eat some cake on her actual birthday," her mum snapped.
Her dad noticed the beginning of the yearly argument of why Hermione went to Hogwarts and tactfully changed the subject. "So how were classes this year? Did you keep your grade average?"
Hermione smiled and felt the tension leave the room as Mrs Granger handed out the cake as she explained how Professor Lupin had given her the title of brightest witch of her age and how the headmaster had found out about it and told her to be proud of it.
The fog crept its way into the family scene, first blotting out the sun surrounding the kitchen in shadows that struck out in harsh angles. As it engulfed the room it zeroed in until only the delicate sound of a girls voice could be heard and then it too was swallowed by the fog.
A buzzing noise filled her ears like a hive of bees. She had to strain to make out where the sound was coming from. People, there were people arguing. They didn't know what to do. No. They did, they couldn't agree on what to do.
A woman was throwing her hands around in the face of the man she couldn't name. Pale ghost hair, but no name.
The woman wanted to kill someone.
Not enough. She thought. Not filled, not satisfied. Her mind was giving her riddles she couldn't solve.
She watched as the nameless man stood still, regal, elegant. Simply waiting for the raving woman to stop.
He didn't want to kill. No. He didn't mind killing, didn't mind it when appropriate.
So much, red everywhere, everywhere red. But not enough. Should be more. Her mind produced more riddles.
He didn't want to anger someone. Father? No. Brother? Teacher? No. Friend? No.
Master.
He didn't want to anger his master..
No more killing or anger master.
Her brain was finally cutting and pasting the meanings together. There was something the woman knew not. But the nameless man did, he had been informed, he was the first hand. No. He was the right one. No. He was the right hand. Yes.
He was the right hand to master, the woman was not. She was not informed. She was not to question.
There would be no more killing for now.
Her mind whirled, who was there left to kill. She could think of no one.
So much, red everywhere, everywhere red.
There was no fog this time, instead an inky blackness framed the room like the jaws of a beast getting ready to snap them shut on its prey. And just before they closed forever the nameless man turned and faced her, a look on his face she couldn't interpret and then darkness.
Time. Punishment.
Blood. Bird.
Innocence. Laughter.
Red. Eyes.
Family. Love.
Kill. Master.
Bird...? Her memories where so jumbled she couldn't even remember the symbolism she had attached to them, to help her not forgot. It would be so easy to forget. So easy to think it was all made up. A dream. For all there was was darkness. How could so much light be real? But it was, she had chopped up symbolism to keep her memories present in the darkness. Always darkness.
Her memories, what were they for again...?
She pushed her mind to work and could feel the gathering of the pieces that had become dislodged. There were still some missing, but not the important ones. Not the important ones.
Memories?
Time; it had been three hundred and fifteen days of darkness. That was what time was for.
Punishment; the darkness was a punishment for being apart of the light. Surrounded in darkness he had said.
Blood; the blood had been the start of it. How? She couldn't remember.
Bird; bird? It was still lost. Bird? Next one.
Innocence; lost. She had lost it. Where? In the darkness. Maybe.
Laughter; the last thing she had heard. Someone laughing. What for again?
Red; that was connected. Connect?
Eyes; red... red eyes. The last thing she'd seen. Filled with excitement. Expectations. Hope.
Family; dead? Yes. Her parents dead. Part of the light? No, didn't sound right.
Love; not real? No, gone. Yes. No more love. To hard to find in the darkness.
Kill; connected... connected to... bird? No.
Master; connected... kill. Kill the master. Yes. No! Kill for the master. Yes! That was right.
She was going to kill for the master.
